


Holy Ground

by molmcmahon



Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter, Pre-Slash, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-01 01:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21319582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molmcmahon/pseuds/molmcmahon
Summary: In which Harry Potter finds himself in a world of Assassins during the time of the Crusades.
Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550224
Comments: 14
Kudos: 501





	Holy Ground

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own either HP or Assassin's Creed.

“We are definitely not in Kansas anymore, Hedwig.”

The horse next to him whinnied and stamped her hooves, nudging him with her muzzle. 

“Yeah, we’re not in London too.”

The mare swished her tail in a more pronounced way, flicking flies off of her back. She made a kind of rumbling noise, perhaps half whinny and half chirp that sounded odd from a horse’s vocal cords, and Harry’s lips twitched up into a smile.

“Yeah, I know, Hedwig. I know. You chose that form though and we don’t want to upset the locals.”

Hedwig blinked and raised a hoof lazily. Harry sidestepped the mare and glared at her, his lips twitching up into a grin. The passing locals stared at the two of them then ignored the man and horse as they ventured through the gate ahead.

“Just… don’t do anything unhorselike, okay?”

Hedwig huffed out a loud breath, her amber eyes glittering in the low sun. Harry turned to look out at the mountains that encompassed the castle and fortress, at the high cliffs that looked out over the land. The sun was low in the sky, an hour away from dinner perhaps and Harry was definitely not in Kansas anymore.

The castle and Fortress was called Masyaf, according to the locals, and was the headquarters of… Assassins. There were guards at the gate in front of them that wore white robes, with knives, a sword and perhaps other weapons strewn throughout their clothing. 

Hedwig snorted, stamping her hooves again in what was impatience.

“Yes, Hedwig. A dragon would scare the locals. And no… you can’t shift back now. People have seen us,” Harry muttered under his breath, patting her neck and sighing. “Let’s go see if we can stay a night or two. Besides… Assassins. How cool is that?”

Hedwig sighed, shaking her grey mane out and whinnying eagerly. Hedwig had chosen to be a horse this time, with a white body and grey mane and tail that looked silver in the moonlight. She only wore a saddle on her back and with a thin rope around her neck, Harry had found it easy enough to enjoy riding. 

“Wonder what that source of power I can feel is,” Harry muttered before shaking his head and leading the mare down the path and over to the gate. 

The guards looked him over, all in the white robes and Harry eyed them thoughtfully, idly wondering if these men were all Assassins. He really hadn’t meant to travel this far in time, what with the Crusaders, Templars, and now… Assassins. 

“Business?” Harry heard the word in English but the man probably spoke Arabic. As… the Master of Death, he could understand all languages and speak in them as well. He just needed to switch between them in his mind.

“I need someplace to stay for a night. You have an inn here?”

The guard stared at him, spared a glance to his horse, and then nodded, gesturing him in. “Inn’s a mile south.”

Harry nodded back to the guard and led Hedwig in, noting the curled shoulders about the men and women he passed. Unease radiated from the town as he walked in, holding onto the rope around Hedwig’s neck to give people the illusion that Hedwig was a normal horse.

He had wanted to revisit the mortal world but he had insisted on bringing Hedwig with him. And well… what with his imminent change in title… Hedwig easily joined him as his familiar.

The castle on the hill above the town wasn’t too big, wasn’t the size of Hogwarts but he could definitely see that there was a lot of history here. Levantine architecture was beautiful and he hadn’t even seen any of the bigger cities yet. The architecture of it was beautiful, all glittering pale tan stone towers and flags flying bearing the sigil of the Assassins. An upside down V. 

The tallest tower stood in the south most corner of the castle and he wondered whose quarters it was. 

Harry did receive a lot of odd looks, given that he had the palest skin around for miles, but for the most part, he ignored them. He was used to people looking at him and at least the looks weren’t like the many he had received in his fourth year. 

Several white cloaked men idly walked throughout the town, stopping to chat with folk while others were sitting on benches. Hedwig snuffled out curious breaths as she sniffed the air, throwing her head up to look. 

He came to a stop at the inn that the guard had mentioned and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned around to look at the cliff behind him, the trees, the crowds of people around him and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Harry narrowed his eyes, feeling the elder wand slip into his fingers and then shrugged, shaking the feeling off after a minute.

Harry looked over to the fence post to the right of them, to the horses that were tied to it. He met Hedwig’s amber eyes and gestured to the post. Hedwig glared at him. Harry crossed his arms.

Hedwig let out a deep huff of breath and walked over to stand next to a smooth black horse, whickering quietly. The other horse whinnied back, sounding curious as it reached out to sniff Hedwig’s neck.

Harry reached out to grab his saddle bags and stripped Hedwig of the light saddle on her back, dropping the various bags at his feet. He reached into one and grabbed a brush, keeping an eye on the children that ran underfoot. There were many families that walked the streets around him, many people who stopped at the food vendors along the way and no one was tensing up at the men who looked like they knew how to fight.

Maybe the Assassins gave them protection. Protection from the Crusaders and from bandits. He looked up at the castle and fortress again, blinked and looked at it again with enhanced vision. There were guards on the walls and on top of the gate behind him, all with long bows strapped to their backs and quivers of arrows.

Definitely protection then.

He pulled the saddlebags and saddle over his shoulders and stroked Hedwig’s neck before venturing inside the inn. 

  
  


* * *

Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad watched as the man walked inside the inn, seemingly just here to rest his head. The man was indeed very pale skinned as the runner had said and the scarring on the man’s forehead was definitely intriguing. The lightning bolt shape of it curved down on the man’s skin, peeking Altaïr’s interest even more. With his Eagle Vision, the man had glowed gold, like a target, but he was unaware of any assassination target that looked like that. Perhaps the man was from the same country as Robert de Sable’s steward was from or perhaps not. He did not know.

The moment he had looked at the man from his position opposite him, the man had frozen, like he felt something or someone was looking at him. The man had then turned around, looking around at the crowds, at the buildings around him, even at the trees but he had not looked up. Up on the roof where Altaïr crouched, resting his arms on his knees.

Perhaps he would have one of the younger novices watch the man as he spotted Malik wave at him from the gate. Not all of the Assassins had taken well to Altaïr’s new title of Master and Abbas… Abbas was something to ponder. Was the man about to prove too hateful or would he submit to the change in leadership?

And with the tiny glimpse the Apple had given him of the stranger… Altaïr was made even more curious. 

  
  


* * *

Harry sat down at one of the tables in the inn as he waited for his paid meal to arrive and took in the locals. Many were chatting quietly about the recent harvest or the number of goats that were on sale at the local market. Some were talking of the Assassins and Harry shuffled over closer, keeping his movements quiet.

He didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself but he was at the least, curious. His home world or dimension didn’t have Assassins or he supposed… it did but not… this. Not organized and well trained and… this.

This was a brotherhood, mostly of brothers, that fought together and protected their own. And apparently one that just had a change in leadership. Now it was led by the Eagle of Masyaf. Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad. A man that seemed to the people to be superhuman, more than just a regular Assassin.

Harry nodded in thanks as a woman came by with his food, leaving it on the table in front of him. His stomach grumbled a little at the hour and he glanced out through the various windows of the small inn, noting that the sun was falling. Shadows played outside as he took a bite of his meal, listening into the various conversations in the tavern.

As soon as he was done, he thanked the innkeeper and walked out, glancing up at the stars above him. Same stars here as were in his home universe or dimension. Same moon as it shone down onto the town below. It was a warm night with a slight breeze, making the trees around him whistle quietly.

Hedwig was quiet where she was standing, one of her hind hooves crooked up in the air lazily. Harry walked over to stand next to her, stroking her neck a little before venturing out into the town. 

People were headed inside for dinner after the activities of the day, after selling their wares or gossiping with the other townspeople. He heard mothers yell for their children to go inside for dinner, just like back in modern times. Though the Dursleys had never called for him to come in for dinner. He imagined that Molly or Arthur had called for their children to come in.

He stepped through the lines of people going to their homes and stopped in a square, seeing the fountain in the center of it. The water bubbled away quietly as he looked up at the fortress in front of him, on the hill and continued on the path up, pulling his cloak around him in the next step. 

  
  


* * *

Altaïr watched as his quarry walk along the dirt path up to the fortress, following him from above. The man below was no Assassin but nor was he… a civilian. He walked like a soldier, like someone accustomed to hiding his movements. The man walked firmly in the dirt but lightly at the same time as the breeze ruffled his dark hair.

He watched as the man pulled his thick shimmery cloak further about his shoulders and… vanished. Altaïr stilled where he was, inhaling deeply and narrowed his eyes, staring at where the man had been for a minute before activating his special vision. 

The glows of his allies proved blue as they walked along the walls and gate of the fortress in front of him. Templars and their allies had proven red in his vision and his targets in gold. This man had shown as gold just like his past nine targets and just like Al Mualim had shown up as… up until last week.

As he focused back on the path the man had taken, Altaïr zeroed in on the footprints the man was leaving. The footprints that glowed gold in his vision. He stood up and watched as the the footprints led over to the gate of Masyaf, his eyes narrowing even more. He could not see the man but he could see the man’s footprints.

He leapt between rooftops as he followed the man under the stars, wondering if the man had a Piece of Eden as he himself did.

  
  


* * *

Harry stopped under the gate of the fortress, still under his cloak, shadows pooling around him even now, even though it was dark. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the elder wand slipped into his fingers even as he looked around. There were a few guards dressed in white robes standing in and around the courtyard in front of him, with knives and swords strapped to their robes. 

There were guards on the walls behind him and above him but… He glanced out over to the homesteads in the town, his eyes narrowing as the wind whistled through him. He shivered slightly and his magic wrapped around him, warming him up even without the incantation.

He scanned the rooftops behind him, finding nothing until… A man, white cloaked and robed, stood on the edge of the roof right behind him, nearly across from him in the same line of sight. The man was crouched down on the rooftop and looking right at Harry. Harry looked back, narrowing his eyes and drawing on his magic to enhance his vision, to see the man’s amber eyes. They looked a bit like Hedwig’s eyes, or at least Hedwig’s eyes as an owl.

Predatory and watchful.

The man continued to look at him, his amber eyes narrowed, before his eyes flickered back to brown.

Harry raised an eyebrow, knowing that the man somehow was possibly looking straight at him. He watched as the man stood up and leapt from his position to… the wall across from him and continued running. 

The man ran across the rooftops, no foot out of place and every movement graceful. Harry’s eyes widened as he stared, watching as the man jumped from the nearest building to the wall of the fortress in one leap. Harry blinked and hurried to keep up with the man as he ran above him, over the walls and to the keep itself.

The man leapt up onto the wall of the keep and then… started to climb, picking handholds as he went. Harry stared, his mouth opening and closing at the sight before him. 

“Isn’t that…” Harry trailed off, his heart skipping a beat as the man leapt from a spot on the wall to one to the far left, picking out something that Harry couldn’t see. The man’s robe billowed in the light breeze as he climbed up and up, leaping from one window to the next until…

The man stopped where he was, about to the top of the tower, and finally looked down at him. Harry’s feet twitched and he could feel the magic that only he had access to, the magic that was slowly sinking into him with time. The magic that let him see ghosts and control them, the magic that let him swallow souls when it was their time.

The man was still in that same position, one arm holding onto the wall and one down at his side. His light brown eyes were fixed on the dirt behind Harry, as if he couldn’t exactly see Harry but his… footprints. Harry blinked, seeing the little twitch to the man’s lips, as if he was challenging him and Harry grinned, putting his cloak away.

He leapt up into the air and wings unfolded behind him, black and all encompassing as they aided him in his rise. 

  
  


* * *

Altaïr blinked as he watched the man reveal himself again, standing alone in the center of the courtyard. The man stood just a few feet away from the training arena, his green eyes bright, and met Altaïr’s eyes. He switched into Eagle Vision as he looked at the man, still glowing golden in his vision, the image that he had seen of the man from the Apple flashing through his mind.

The Apple had shown him an image of the man flying, with a broom between his legs and an owl by his side. Just that image and that alone had made him curious, had made him want to find out more about this man and who he was. His lips twitched up into a slight grin as the sight of the man coming into Masyaf with his horse flashed through his mind. The horse had had eagle eyes, amber eyes, just like himself.

Malik had said something of the sort, that Altaïr’s eyes changed color when he used his special vision. But in a horse?

The wind howled even more and drew him back to look at the man, watching as he revealed himself once more. The man’s eyes narrowed and then Altaïr watched as the man grinned, his bright green eyes flashing with heat and then he leapt.

The outline of wings, large and black, hovered behind the man as he jumped into the air. The Apple hummed in his back pocket, sending out warm sparks of power that Altaïr could definitely feel within the fabric. He withdrew from his vision and looked upon the man normally, seeing the wings still and wondered if the man was… a god. Or perhaps one of the Christian angels. Though… he had never heard of a Crusader god or angel having black wings.

The man rose up into the air easily, moving gracefully through the air currents. He looked like he was born to it, born to fly. Just like how Altaïr felt when he performed a Leap of Faith. 

The man only took a minute to come up to Altaïr’s level, their eyes meeting. Altaïr stared right into the man’s eyes, looking at the outline of black wings and at the man’s weird looking clothes. He had seen a glimpse of a man wearing stranger garments in the Apple the first time he had used it but this man… wore strange looking leggings and a tunic that did not go further than his waist that was not made of any material Altaïr had ever seen. His leggings were black while his tunic was dark green, a lion’s head stitched onto it.

Altaïr studied the man, seeing his loose shoulders, the scar on his forehead and then looked up, at the tower he was clinging onto. His own tower, the tower of the Master of Masyaf. He gestured up to the top, where there was a small balcony, big enough that some novices had tried it in the past, big enough for the two of them.

The man followed his gesture and then nodded, grinning a little wider and shot up with the speed of a knife being thrown. 

“Race you to the top?” The man called out, drawing the attention of one guard down below. Altaïr turned to look at the man below, seeing his eyes widen and then leapt up to the next handhold, gaining on the man. 

The man’s accent was unfamiliar, high and noticeable but wasn’t thick. He met the man’s grin with one of his own, taking much more pleasure in climbing now that he had been forced back to the basics within the last few months. 

It wasn’t hard for him to reach the top and nor was it easy to see that the man had reached it at the same time as he did. Altaïr had expected the wings to block his way but he did not run into them nor were they… there in the physical sense. There was a slight hint of rustling feathers filling the air but nothing other than that.

The man was breathing steadily, not too hard, but not a relaxed beat as he looked to Altaïr, studied him just as much.

“Who are you?”

  
  


* * *

Harry studied the man before him, took in the fact that he was not breathing heavily. The man wore the white robes that had become familiar to him throughout the afternoon and evening, with a white beaked hood over his face that hid most of his features. The man also had a bracer on his left wrist, one that had a distinct look to it, symbols etched into the leather around it.

“I am Altaïr Ibn-La’ahad. And you? You who fly?”

“I’m Harry Potter. You’re the new Master everyone’s talking about then? That was so cool, watching you climb up as easily as you did. I kept expecting you to fall.”

“Harry. That is… an English name?”

Altaïr’s voice was deep as he spoke in Arabic though Harry heard it in English for now. It was lilting and quiet, a hint of something that was perhaps curiosity within. It was also… rather distracting too and Harry idly wished Altaïr would lower his hood.

“Yeah. So… can every Assassin do that?”

“Not so easily, no. Who are you? You are no Assassin.” Altaïr crossed his arms as he looked at Harry, a frown on his face.

“No. I am… not an Assassin. I am in roughly the same business though. Kind of. There are technical details and all that that separate us.”

Harry could feel Altaïr’s gaze on him and he could swear that the other man had raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s a long story. Could I… maybe get a tour? Or… What makes an Assassin?”

Altaïr’s frown deepened. “A tour?”

“Yeah, you know… If there are secret passages or… It’s a castle. It’s gotta have secret passages.”

Altaïr continued to stare at him. “You are familiar with most castles then?”

Harry frowned. “I’m only familiar with one castle. Hogwarts. It’s where I did my learning as a wizard.”

“Wizard.”

Harry sighed and reached up his palm, conjuring a witch light. Altaïr sucked in a tight breath at the sight but remained with his arms crossed.

“I have seen other… tools that can do that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, hearing the quiet steel under Altaïr’s voice. He wondered what the story was and if he might hear it though Altaïr didn’t look that trusting right now.

“Alright… How about a patronus?”

Prongs leapt from his fingers and trotted around the small balcony that they were on, leaping up onto the stone railing and rearing up.

“That is magic?”

“Yes. It is also how I flew.”

Altaïr stared at him and then reached up to lower his hood, revealing his brown eyes. Harry blinked as he took in the man’s face, his heart skipping a beat. The man had short dark hair and intense brown eyes as he looked at Harry. 

Prongs whinnied and trotted back over to stand next to him, bending his head so that its antlers faced off against any threat. Harry took in Altaïr’s narrowed eyes and asked again his main question.

“What are Assassins?”

Altaïr frowned and then sighed. “We hold to a Creed and three tenets. Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted. I saw you in the Apple. Why?”

“Apple? This isn’t like a prophecy thing, is it? Because if it is… I’m out.”

Altaïr blinked at his words, tilted his head slightly. “Prophecy?”

“I’ve dealt with my share of prophecies and they are totally overrated.”

“What are you really?”

“Death. I am Death.”

“You are Death.”

“And you are the Eagle of Masyaf. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Altaïr stared at him. “Tell me your story. I would like to learn.”

“Tell me about this Apple of yours. I presume it’s not a piece of fruit.”

Altaïr shook his head even as Prongs began to circle them. Harry watched as the man reached for his back pocket and brought out… A glowing ball of power. Harry’s heart stopped as his scar shocked him, the malevolent feeling making him a little queasy. He brought up his shields around his mind, strengthening them until they were at full power, and stared at the Apple.

“That… I have a bad feeling about this,” Harry muttered, meeting Altaïr’s eyes.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Facebook: just search for Molmcmahon


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